


Good Omens

by snidgetsafan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Heaven & Hell, Humor, Slow Burn, angel Killian, demon Emma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 13:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snidgetsafan/pseuds/snidgetsafan
Summary: It all starts in a garden...In a world where Heaven and Hell play an ineffable game of backgammon with humanity, an Angel and a Demon have been stationed on Earth since the dawn of time.And after 6,000 years, any being, whether they be ethereal or occult, would go at least a little native.And after 6,000 years of being the only two immortal souls on Earth, could you blame these beings for braving angelic and demonic taboos and growing close?A Good Omens AU (no prior knowledge of the book or mini-series needed)





	Good Omens

**Author's Note:**

> My participation for CS September Sunshine!  
Good Omens is my favorite book, ever, and since I saw the show back in July I've been... obsessed. I should have already written chapter 2 of Whom the Gods Love Die Young (and 3, and 4, and...) but my brain wouldn't let me work on anything else.  
I would like to give MASSIVE thanks to Devon, who betaed this baby in a couple of days. Thank you darling, both for editing and tolerating my stupid jokes!  
Also, this was supposed to be one of these bullet point outlines that you see on Tumblr. 10k later...

It all starts in a garden. No, not a garden –  _ the  _ garden. You could even say the Garden, since it’s currently the only one in existence. 

It’s a gorgeous Garden. You could even call it heaven on Earth, because it is.

It doesn’t actually start in the Garden proper, mind, but rather on top of the wall surrounding it, where an Angel is watching the first two humans walk towards an undetermined future. More determined, however, is the lion slowly prowling towards them. A slight breeze brings the smell of ozone from the coming storm (the first storm – God really casting the humans out in style), as well as the slightest whiff of iron. That last smell is explained a few seconds later by the appearance of a huge snake slithering up the wall before slowly taking human shape as it reaches the parapet, as if unsure how to go about the transition. A Demon, then.

And thus the Demon spake unto the Angel, “Well, I don’t think that could have been any more dramatic.” 

“I beg your pardon?” are the first words the Angel spake unto the Demon. The Demon smiles in amusement, their dark hair fluttering in the wind as it steadily blows stronger; the storm is growing nearer. They catch a few strands between their fingers, looking at it in puzzlement before shrugging and turning towards the Angel.

Then their smile turns into a frown. “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” they ask, tilting their head to look behind the Angel, just in case their lanky frame could somehow hide a huge sword on actual fire. Such a feat would have to be quite the mirac– well.

The Angel averts their blue eyes, pretending to be fascinated by the approaching clouds. When they see the Demon patiently waiting for an answer (and isn’t it odd, seeing a Demon display one of the seven Virtues?), they mumble an answer, turning their head away once again. 

(Those clouds really are quite something. They’re the first ones, for starters). 

The Demon’s serpentine eyes widen. Surely – “You  _ what _ ?” And then the Angel says Words, words that will shape the next six thousand years of the world, from its very beginning to its end (and its aftermath, too, but more importantly its end).

“I gave it away,” they repeat defensively, not looking at the Demon, unwilling to see the mockery on their face. The Demon is glad that the Angel’s not looking at them; this way, they have time to hide the absolute awe they’re feeling at the moment. It’s not that the Angel has compassion; angels are made of love, compassion is innate for them. No, it’s that  _ this _ Angel, without even realizing it, has shown free will, has had the complete and utter  _ balls  _ to find and  _ use  _ a loophole in God’s orders. 

They’re so awed, they don’t even acknowledge the envy and wrath this realization awakens in them (why didn’t  _ this _ angel fall, when what they did was worse than what the Demon did – when they only  _ asked questions? _ ) 

It’s the first time of many that the Angel will cause the Demon to ignore their very nature, reminding them of Before (before Eden, before Hell, before the fall, before the doubt).

And with the dawn of human history begins the dance of Emraoth and Kiliel (for they do learn each other’s names eventually). Because while “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?” is quite an interesting question, it would be more appropriate to wonder what an angel and a demon would dance if left to their own devices (or to be more precise, not an angel and a demon, but rather  _ this  _ Angel and  _ this _ Demon). 

For instance, right now, you could say they’re line dancing; following the steps set by the choreography, occasionally facing each other but each staying in their own space, in sync with their side. They meet in Mesopotamia, Etruria, and what will become Australia. They assume their roles at the foot of the Ararat Mountains, though they’re not very good at it (an angel unenthusiastic about the Flood and a demon raving about the children not deserving this fate – what would their ilk think?)

––- 

And then Jerusalem happens. Kiliel watches with sorrow in his eyes as God’s Son is nailed to one of the crosses. He knows God’s Plan is ineffable, and that Jesus’ death is a vital part of it, but his heart still bleeds as he hears the man’s cries and whimpers. He oddly feels relieved to smell the whiff of iron, turning his head to see Emraoth suddenly standing next to him (but not watching him - almost never watching him, not since Eden). She is draped all in black with a veil covering her brown hair in the local fashion, and she looks grim, no sign of amusement on her face. 

“Did you meet him?” Kiliel can’t help but ask, both out of curiosity and as a way to cover Jesus’ cries of pain.

“I showed him all the kingdoms of the world,” she murmurs, not looking away from the cross now slowly being raised. 

“Why?” Kiliel asks, not understanding what temptation she was trying to accomplish. And just like Emraoth’s whole worldview had tilted on its axis on the Garden’s wall, so does Kiliel’s on top of the Golgotha as Emraoth snorts, although there is no mirth in it. 

“He’s the son of a carpenter. How else was he supposed to see them before he died?” 

And just like Emraoth hadn’t expected to find free will in an angel before the Garden, Kiliel hadn’t expected to find pity in a demon before 

They wait in respectful silence for the end after this, feeling Jesus deserves to not be left alone in his last, most terrible moments. Neither of them says a thing when the spear pierces his side; they’ll later get commendations from their respective sides for the act, and they won’t say a thing. What could they say? Could Kiliel say that out of the two of them, it was the Demon who showed mercy? And what can Emraoth say when Hell rejoices in her worsening the Christ’s agony? That it was the farthest from her mind? 

So they continue line dancing. While they imperceptibly move out of sync with their sides, their steps start complementing each other’s instead, though no one notices, them least of all. 

(God of course notices, just like She’s noticed everything since the beginning, but keeps Her own counsel on the matter).

––- 

For once, Kiliel is the one who first spots Emraoth in Rome. She looks dejected, slumped against the counter with her head leaning on her fist. Kiliel feels quite nervous; he’s known Emraoth since the Garden (as much as one can know a demon, duplicity being second nature to them, he thinks, remembering Liamel’s warnings every time he reports in Heaven), but he doesn’t know how to deal with a demon capable of compassion. 

But Kiliel is… curious, and he approaches her (and if Emraoth’s abrasiveness settles him into a relative sense of comfort, well, nobody has to know). They eat oysters, of all things. Emraoth hates them, but seems to like the honey cakes he orders for dessert (if the way she gobbles her plate and steals his last morsel while he is distracted is any indication, anyway). And during their meal, they talk. Not of deep things – they don’t trust each other enough for  _ that _ \- but of what they’ve seen. Kiliel talks about the Library of Alexandria; Emraoth mentions seeing it. Kiliel is suspicious until Emraoth snaps that it wasn’t her that burnt it down; Maleficent, one of the Duchesses of Hell, has pyromaniac tendencies. 

They part, but something has changed. Both have enjoyed the other’s company, despite their natural enmity. Both Angel and Demon know that if their sides were to know this, they’d – at best – be called back to Heaven and Hell, never to set foot on Earth again. They tacitly agree to keep their acquaintance a secret.

The line dance stops, rearranges itself; they’ve shifted into a tripudium, right in time for the Dark Ages. The Church considers dancing to be immoral, wanton, but how can you stop humans dancing when there’s music? You can’t, so you compromise: people may dance, but under no circumstances should there be physical contact. Touching is impure, a mark of the Devil. 

And isn’t that right on the nose for Kiliel and Emraoth.

They continue to meet from time to time (and if they sometimes investigate stories of miracles or curses wondering if they’ll find the other at the source... well, nobody has to know). Human technology and knowledge takes a step backwards after the fall of Rome. Kiliel misses running water and notions of personal hygiene; Emraoth misses good entertainment and good wine. They complain about it to each other over what passes for a drink at that time in inns, taverns, and on one memorable occasion, during a coronation feast.

They meet again in Ireland in the 5th century, and the discussion becomes quite heated over, ridiculously enough, salmon. Heated enough that Emraoth transforms back into a snake out of a frustration that makes her want to hiss properly. And heated enough for Kiliel to, for the first and only time, discorporate Emraoth where she writhes. They certainly didn’t intend to be seen by the locals, and Kiliel certainly didn’t expect it to gain as much traction as it did. He didn’t chase all the snakes out of the island; he just banished the only snake that ever stepped foot on it, is all. Still, he gets a commendation for smiting a demon and bringing Christianity to Ireland. Above is so happy with him that the medal is directly delivered by the Archangel Blue on a rainy Tuesday morning. The meeting leaves him feeling on edge; while he was outwardly rewarded and praised, this felt more like a trial than anything else. Blue’s parting words certainly didn’t help: 

“It’s surprising how well you’ve adapted, Kiliel. Be careful not to go too native, though.”

(Emraoth takes her revenge a decade late when she sees Kiliel on the battlefield of Châlons, making sure at least three arrows are miracled to pierce him when he’s distracted. Why she had to make sure one hit him in the arse, Kiliel wonders before he is sent back to Heaven, he’ll never know).

––- 

Kiliel joins King Arthur’s Round Table in the 6th century. Above wants to see how all of this quest for the Grail turns out, and he’s been sent to observe it all; Arthur had seemed like such a good lad at the lake when Kiliel had handed him the sword. (Not just a sword, either, but  _ his  _ sword, the one he hasn’t seen since Eden, though it’s not flaming right now. When it’s delivered to him by Blue he keeps a straight face. Nope, nothing to see here). 

When talk of a dark sorceress reaches Camelot, Kiliel volunteers to investigate, centuries of habits making him guess who is behind these tales. And just as he thought, he finds Emraoth in the woods, lounging in a mossy clearing. She does look impressive, if a little… surly. Snakes don’t like the cold and the damp, after all. Neither do angels, for that matter. (Or Kiliel, to be more precise. Heaven, while beautiful and peaceful, is  _ cold _ . Being posted on Earth had been a blessing in disguise; the warm caress of the sun had felt scorching after the chilly harmony of Paradise).

And in the middle of that mossy clearing, as Kiliel’s neck itches under his chainmail, and as Emraoth keeps having to miracle the bottom of her gown dry as they catch up, that clearing is where the Demon vocalizes an idea she’s had since  _ at least _ Pompeii. 

“If I’m here to wile, and you’re here to thwart, and all we do is cancel each other out all the time… wouldn’t it be more sensible to just… go home?” the Demon asks, her serpentine eyes fixed on Kiliel’s, “What’s the point of staying here in the damp when what we’re doing won’t have any impact anyway?” 

Kiliel entertains the idea for a second (that chainmail really is itchy, and the less said about his braies, the better) before he sees through Emraoth’s attempt at sloth. 

“No!” he exclaims, “what’s wrong with you?” Emraoth just shrugs, miracling her dress dry once more. She hadn’t even been trying to tempt the Angel; it would have just been more practical for both of them to go home, that’s all. 

Oh well.

It only takes a decade for Kiliel to see Emraoth’s point as he takes Arthur to Avalon on his final trip, once again appearing as Viviane, the Lady of the Lake. That mess with Lancelot and Guinevere really soured Kiliel’s time in Camelot, and he feels that Arthur giving back Excalibur and dying marks the end of his time at the Round Table.

(He can’t help but feel a little responsible for Lancelot. He did have a hand in his upbringing, after all, and may have been a little heavy-handed in his lessons about love).

He has half a hope to be able to keep his sword at the end of it all, but it’s whisked away by Blue minutes after Arthur has breathed his last, nattering about how it’s going to be needed later on. He finds Emraoth still in the same mossy clearing, and the Arrangement is born. Instead of fighting fruitlessly against one another, one of them can accomplish both the blessing and the temptation.

And if the other one stays home… well, no one has to know.

––- 

And so they now seek each other out, meeting in inconspicuous places: gardens, balls, markets, and isolated clearings. Kiliel is the one who goes up to Iona in the 9th century to inspire some Vikings into attacking the monastery there. He is also the one who helps the monks flee to Ireland. During the trip, he happens upon a gorgeously illuminated book, and is absolutely charmed. He helps the monks settle, and decides to stay for a little while, just to make sure the monastery stays safe (and the books, because there’s a  _ second one _ ). A little while ends up being five decades. It’s in that time that he decides to adopt the name the locals have given him: Killian. It’s close enough to his real name, and attracts less attention than his foreign-sounding one. 

During this time, Emraoth goes to the continent to wreak a little havoc. She has way too much fun nicknaming the successive kings of that period. Kiliel empathizes with Charles: being constantly mocked for your hairiness by being nicknamed King Charles the  _ Bald  _ must have stung something fierce.

When Emraoth comes back, she tells him she now goes by Emma. He guesses he’ll get used to it, even if it’s been almost five millennia of calling her by her demonic name. And if Emma doesn’t meet his eyes when she tells him she just liked the name when she heard it, Kiliel won’t call her out. Just like he won’t mention having read about the angel Immanuel in the Book of Isaiah (although he can’t – he can’t remember ever meeting her before the Fall. So is the curse of the Fallen, that their annihilation from Heaven be so complete that their very existence is banished from Heaven’s memory).

The Arrangement continues and strengthens with time; the dancers get closer and closer, until there is at last, some measure of trust; they touch, even if it is still hesitant. The dance once again changes, the parudium leaving its place to a stately minuet, where the dancers twirl around each other, growing closer then separating in order to come near again. (And if the dancers twirl closer and closer, well, again – no one has to know).

Kiliel learns not to tell Emr–  _ Emma  _ that she is nice, or kind, because she will spend the next decade trying to prove she is  _ not _ . He spends all of the 10th century protecting the Kells library from different pillaging attempts because the Demon knows he loves those two books and is being spiteful. The monks there comment that it’s a miracle the two manuscripts always seem to survive the attacks on the monastery. Kiliel (or brother Killian, as he’s known there) smiles nervously and changes the subject every time.

Years, then decades, then centuries pass in this fashion. Neither Heaven nor Hell seem to catch onto their ruse. Quite the contrary, in fact; the commendations both from Above and Below become more frequent. The only downside to the Arrangement is that Kiliel sees Blue much more often than before, and every meeting leaves him feeling out of sorts, as if he’s missing something, as if Blue’s hiding something behind her affable smiles and azure garments. Kiliel can’t help but feel guilty after each meeting for doubting his superior; Blue knows what she’s doing, and if she weren’t following God’s Plan, then surely the Almighty would have already taken care of her.

Emma absolutely loathes the 14th century, and she makes sure everyone around her (especially Kiliel) knows it. Her drunken rants about all the evils of the era become legendary in their length, virulence, and irony. The last straw is when the umpteenth bout of plague decimates the village she is staying in; she decides in a fit of pique to sleep the rest of the century away. Kiliel does not miss her. He had just grown unaccustomed to only speaking to mortals, that’s all. Plus it’s nice not to have to protect what has become known as the Book of Kells from constant attacks because  _ someone  _ was annoyed and feeling childish.

(Emma has been a constant in his life since the beginning of human history; truth be told, he sees her more often than those on his own side. Of course he’s grown accustomed to her).

As time goes by, Kiliel grows more and more fond of books in general. Even though the Angel loves illuminated manuscripts and thinks them objects of art, no one is more excited than he about the advent of the printing press. He is quite proud, in fact, of having inspired the first sentence to be typed. “Fiat lux” –  _ let there be light –  _ had, indeed, been quite enlightened of him, he thinks. It helps balance the quite scandalous things that print will be used for. Being able to produce several books a day will certainly help spread not only the Gospel, but also stories and histories to people who didn’t have access to them before. And if more people can read, then more people can write books. That’s a win-win situation for the discerning angel looking for new material to read, after all.

Libraries start popping everywhere around Europe. Kiliel is all in favor of giving people free access to books; it’s just that books deserve  _ respect _ , deserve to be handled with care, and so many of these humans seem unable to grasp that fact. They are precious, not only because they are rare, but because of the knowledge they hold. Even he will admit that he went a bit far in the Hereford Cathedral’s library. Chaining the shelves was frowned upon both by the Archbishop and by Above; he’s supposed to influence humans to do God’s will, not miracle the chains himself during the night. He had received a strongly worded letter the following week; phrases like “more judicious use of your grace” and “try to deal with less trivial matters in the future” were used, making Kiliel grimace in discomfort. Head office was  _ not  _ happy.

Emma comes back from her jaunt in the Carribbean with a tan and a new accent and laughs herself silly when he tells her what happened. Kiliel didn’t know demons could laugh. They snicker, cackle or chortle ominously, but Kiliel had no idea they could make such delighted (and delightful) sounds. And if he thinks that laughter really suits Emma, much more than her customary smirks... well, no one has to know.

A century later he is more careful in Dublin; chains are too obvious to protect the books. He just makes sure to devise a system that makes it near impossible to find specific volumes. After all, arranging them by weight and size  _ is  _ logical and practical when you think about it. So little space, so many books. And well, if the Book of Kells finds a privileged place in the college’s library, then that’s just a coincidence, isn’t it? 

(His classification system serves as inspiration again when he opens his bookshop at the end of that century. Again: so little space,  _ so many books _ ).

As Kiliel slowly sets up his shop at the end of the 18th century (he finally found the perfect place, a corner shop in the middle of Soho deserted by its previous owners due to the latest plague outbreak), he hears that the revolutionaries in France are requisitioning all the belongings of the nobility and selling them. He thinks of the libraries of the Versailles palace, of Paris, of Brittany. He thinks of all that knowledge being dilapidated and lost and can’t bear the thought. He needs to do  _ something _ .

So the Angel travels to Paris with his pockets full of  _ écus _ , and starts making enquiries. Except that the situation is so... peculiar in Paris these days that a rich well-dressed man automatically translates to aristocrat. And nobles aren’t very popular in Paris right now, except on the guillotine platform. And so an Angel finds himself chained in a cell in the Bastille. He’d miracle himself free, but he’s not supposed to be in Paris (he should be blessing away in Norwich, but Emma had drawn the short straw this time) and he doesn’t want to attract Above’s attention. And he’s sure he can explain himself to the court; their  _ Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen _ sounded perfectly reasonable when he’d read it the previous month, very progressive and full of good sense. He might even suspect Heavenly influence, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s the only angel in Europe right now.

It turns out the French are not reasonable at all, especially when they see the content of his pockets and decide it would look better in their coffers. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised; they’re a pretty uncouth and smelly bunch and would be unsalvageable if it weren’t for their cuisine and wine. Kiliel finds himself in a new cell, one in which he can hear all the poor souls being decapitated to the cheers of the crowd. Nothing Heavenly about this, he thinks. Hell  _ must  _ be the ones behind this. He hopes Emma was not involved (and doesn’t dither too much on why he doesn’t want her specifically to be responsible). 

He barely waits an hour before the executioner arrives, looking decidedly too cheerful for a dealer of death. Under his jolly appearance and upbeat tone, Kiliel can sense a man rotten to the core, who takes pleasure in making heads roll. No reason nor help coming from this side either, then. Getting discorporated is going to be such a bother, Kiliel thinks, disgruntled. At this rate, he should really use a miracle to free himself; he’s going to be reprimanded anyway, but at least he won’t have to fill the paperwork to get a new body. 

“I really don’t understand how you can behave like such animals while pretending to fight for freedom,” Killian grumbles while raising his hand to snap his fingers, not realizing Jean-Claude has stopped moving entirely.

“Animals don’t use clever machines to kill each other,” sounds a voice from behind him as he realizes the crowd outside has grown silent.  _ Emma _ . He turns around, smiling delightedly, never happier to see the Demon. She’s wearing the local garb, Phrygian hat hiding her brown curls, smoked glasses firmly planted on her nose to hide her serpentine eyes. Her hands are also on her hips, and her eyebrow is raised in the universal sign of annoyance.

“What the heavens are you doing here, Angel? Don’t you have a bookshop to open?” 

While it might be surprising to see an angel lectured by a demon, it’s important to remember that this is not just any angel, nor any demon. So Kiliel tells her everything, ignoring the way she rolls her eyes so hard her head follows the motion. Explaining to Emma  _ why  _ he hasn’t freed himself is a little trickier, though (a lot more embarrassing, more like). Where he expects Emma’s laughter, or her anger, he’s only met with fond exasperation as she shakes her head, looking at him over her glasses. Emma can’t hold time prisoner for long, though, so she switches Kiliel’s clothes with Jean-Claude the executioner’s just in time for two soldiers to come fetch the “English pig” to take him to his date with Madame Guillotine. Both men ignore Jean-Claude’s protestations that he’s French, which probably has something to do with the fact that he’s suddenly forgotten how to speak French. The Angel doesn’t feel guilty about Jean-Claude’s fate. After all, it’s divine retribution for his crimes; he will die as he lived, on the scaffold – only this time, he’ll be the one with his head on the block. 

After getting out of the Bastille and breathing in the relative fresh air (Revolutionary France really was letting itself go in terms of waste disposal and personal hygiene, not that it had been this stellar to begin with), they go to a café and have some crêpes. Between Emma riding on the high of a successful rescue and Kiliel feeling relieved at not having had to resort to any miracles, the tone is jovial. They joke around, Emma telling him about Norwich, Kiliel telling her about his latest purchases. After the first bottle of cider, Emma finally teases him about his coming to Paris, making the Angel smile (he’d been waiting for it; after almost six thousand years, he was starting to know the Demon).

They end up walking in the Tuileries after dark among canoodling couples and groups of friends. It would be hard to guess from this sight alone that the city was in the middle of the Reign of Terror. They stop on a bench overlooking the Louvre. Amusement and the alcohol they’ve drunk make Emma relaxed, and that the flimsy little glasses she wears keep sliding down her nose as she talks animatedly. Kiliel looks at her, finding her positively charming, her flushed cheeks and relaxed brow making her appear younger. 

(Than usual, that is, not than her actual age. Any breathing body automatically looks younger than six thousand years. To be honest, any  _ body  _ looks younger than six thousand). 

Fresh air and Paris and wine as well as a good time had with a friend make Kiliel unable to keep his thoughts to himself. “You have the most beautiful eyes, love,” he blurts out, emboldened by being able to see them for once, no smoky glasses shielding the serpentine orbs. Ever since she had discovered smoked glasses, she almost always had a pair over her eyes, the most notable exception being when she’d turned into a snake in Ireland (and hadn’t  _ that  _ encounter ended spectacularly badly). 

And yet, even as the words escape his mouth, he knows he’s making a mistake; those glasses are an armor for her, one behind which she can hide and upon which she’s based her whole persona, her whole shell. Her face closes off immediately, and in another two minutes she’s gone, pretexting a temptation in Orléans. It’s only after she’s disappeared behind a row of trees that he realizes he’d never asked her how she had known where to find him.

Neither of the dancers notice, but Paris in 1793 marks a significant change in the dance, as the minuet slowly becomes livelier, sharper, more challenging. Both dancers prod at each other, enter each other’s space to see if they’ll take a step back, twirl and walk and collide in a fiery facsimile of a fight. Though it hasn’t been invented yet, the angel and the demon are the first to dance a pasodoble.

Kiliel doesn’t hear from Emma for 10 years. She waltzes back in his life one Tuesday morning in 1803 as he’s trying to convince a gentleman that no, he doesn’t want to purchase that Shakespeare folio, that it’s not for sale even if yes, it is on display in a bookshop. The gentleman is quite insistent until Emma snaps her fingers and he seems in a hurry to get… somewhere else. Kiliel doesn’t want to know. He’s just glad to be rid of the man, as he had quite odd ideas; arguing that bookshops have to sell books, how preposterous. It’s taken him more than three centuries to amass his collection, he’s not going to start squandering it. He didn’t nearly die in Paris for this.

That first meeting is all business, as she has a new pet project in Manchester (or, to be more accurate, the pet project  _ is  _ Manchester). They make a deal: Kiliel will ignore what’s happening in Lancashire, and Emma will steer clear of County Mayo in Ireland. Not that it’s a sacrifice for her; she still hasn’t forgiven him for what happened there in the 5th century. But if Emma plans on influencing a whole city, then Kiliel should definitely do the same, just somewhere else. He remembers popping by Cathair na Mart two decades ago for a blessing, inspiring the lord of the place to rebuild the village he had destroyed to extend his grounds, instead of just turning the inhabitants into the streets. A second blessing on the architect ensured that the new town would be decent; he’s particularly proud of the promenade along the river. 

So Kiliel starts spending more time there, dusting off his Killian moniker and encouraging the citizens to do good. His efforts show, as four churches open. More importantly a proliferation of missions and charities begin to operate in and around the city. He hasn’t often concentrated so much on one place, and he finds he quite likes it, even if he misses his bookshop (though his frequent absences help establish him as a particularly difficult merchant, a reputation that he is far, far from resenting, as it keeps most customers away).

What he doesn’t expect, however, is to enjoy sailing so much. Oh, he’s already sailed before in his long existence – after all, you can’t travel from England to the rest of the world without setting foot on a ship (he could fly, but the air currents over the Channel are a nightmare to navigate) – but this, this is different. Sailing directly from London to Cathair na Mart is quicker and more practical than traveling by land, and for the first time since the invention of the caravel, he actually sails on the open sea, and he finds it  _ exhilarating _ . When the wind is behind them (and it always is, he makes sure of it), it feels like flying, the ride smooth and swift. He loves it so much that he acquires his own ship, a small brigantine named  _ The Ethereal Swan _ which employs eight sailors (but which he usually sails by himself if he can help it). He makes sure that a dock is always miraculously free for him both in England and Ireland. 

He finds he can’t wait to show his ship to Emma. They are… friends, after all, are they not? They’ve been exchanging letters this whole time (even if months or even years could pass between each one), ostentatiously to continue with their Arrangement, less officially to catch up. 

(Emma still refuses to step foot in Ireland; considering the utter mess she’s wreaking in Manchester, that’s probably a good thing. Kiliel can’t approach Manchester now without the stench of evil making his eyes water. They’d meet, but they’re afraid that both of them being absent from their cities at the same time would raise some suspicion).

He thinks he might get a chance in 1835, when Emma sends a message to his bookshop (he’s been spending more and more time there, his work in Mayo County slowly coming to an end) asking him to meet her at St James’ Park, not far from Buckingham Palace. It’s become a privileged meeting spot for them since the 1660s, but they haven’t been there since the canal had been transformed into a lake. Kiliel is quite eager to see the changes (and even more to see Emma; it’s been too long, despite the letters). They catch up with each other while walking the new avenues, Emma telling him all about the mischief she has been up to in Manchester and the commendation she’s gotten for it, before Kiliel talks about Cathair na Mart and Emma tries not to roll her eyes at the sentimentality (well, not too much). Kiliel softly smiles whenever she does so; he knows what she looks like when truly annoyed, and this isn’t it – this is just a front. The Demon Emraoth can be quite soft when she wants to be, although Kiliel isn’t stupid enough to voice that thought (not anymore, at least – he doesn’t know where she’d find Vikings to attack Trinity College, but he trusts her to somehow manage it).

It’s while they’re sitting down in front of the new lake, looking at the new facade of Buckingham House (“Palace, Angel, get with the times”) that Kiliel finally broaches the fact he bought a ship. “You what?” Emma laughs, looking delightfully surprised (just as she had on the wall of Eden, at the very beginning, and Kiliel is proud to still be able to surprise her). So he invites her to Rotherhithe where the  _ Ethereal Swan _ is docked, planning on taking a cab to go there. Emma stops him, bringing him to a black buggy which she drives with… unabashed enthusiasm, a part of Kiliel tries to think diplomatically (though the rest of it is screaming that she’s driving like a madwoman). Between sharp turns and exhortations for Emma to watch the road, Kiliel performs six minor miracles to ensure there are no casualties to Emma’s driving, while the demon snaps that pedestrians know the risks when they venture onto the streets. It’s with the greatest relief that Kiliel finally glimpses the masts in the marina, and directs Emma as close to the  _ Swan _ ’s dock as possible. 

He suddenly feels bashful as he guides Emma onto the gangplank, ridiculously wanting her to approve of the ship. He can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as soon as he steps on the deck, feeling more at home than anywhere else (even more than his shop, and he’s lived there for the last five decades, longer than anywhere else). Emma has already started exploring, climbing on the upper deck to see the wheel and peer over the railing, before coming back towards him. Kiliel waits patiently for her, watching her walk around his ship, the sight oddly right.

They end up in the captain’s cabin, sharing a bottle of rum Emma miracles. She had brought back some from her time in the Carribean, and Kiliel had developed quite a taste for it. “Plus,” she smirks, ”it’s quite appropriate to toast the ship with some naval rum, wouldn’t you agree,  _ Captain _ ?” Kiliel just smiles while sipping his drink, letting the alcohol and the company warm his insides.

It’s as she leaves that Emma plants a seed in Kiliel’s mind, looking around her at the books littering the window’s edge and the furniture.

“If you feel so much at home here, why do you even bother with your bookshop?” 

(And isn’t that the way of demons, sowing seeds and making sure humans grow them all by themselves? Ironic, when you consider how hopeless Emma is with plants.) 

At the time, Kiliel just smiles, but the wheels of fate have already started turning, even if he’s not aware of it yet.

––-

After that, they start meeting more often, always following the same pattern: they meet in the park, and end up either in his bookshop or on his ship (and always, always with Emma’s mad driving in the middle, regrettably). Excepting the infernal rides, Kiliel likes this new development. Even though she is supposedly his mortal enemy, he feels a kinship with Emma born of almost six millenia spent on Earth and of their own alchemy. 

This state of harmony comes to an end on a stormy Tuesday morning four years later when Blue herself graces him with her presence, stepping into his bookshop as he waits for Emma’s arrival. They’re planning to go eat at Claridge’s. Apparently, his achievements in Cathair na Mart have earned him a medal, as well as a promotion. A promotion that means he’s being summoned back to Heaven,  _ permanently _ . Something which he definitely doesn’t want, but can’t really say to Blue, now can he? Kiliel tries to argue that he is an asset here on Earth, that he knows the enemy and manages to thwart them quite effectively, but to no avail. She doesn’t seem to care at all that if he were to go, Hell would be left to roam Earth unchallenged, even enjoying the thought. And this promotion doesn’t feel like one either. What did Petrarch used to say? “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer”? Kiliel somehow doesn’t feel like a friend there. He manages to win a little time before he has to leave, just enough to sort his business here (just enough to say his goodbyes).

But it doesn’t come to that, as Blue comes sulking back two hours later, this time with Gabriel in tow. The head Archangel looks perplexed (which would translate to frantic agitation in any other person or angel). Apparently, Kiliel’s promotion has been postponed, as he is considered far more useful on Earth than Above – but he can keep the medal, thank you and goodbye. Blue doesn’t look perplexed or alarmed; instead, she looks frustrated, her mouth turned down into a subtle frown that Kiliel somehow catches. Her insistence on his being on Earth as merely temporary is also odd; it’s almost as if she wants to get him  _ away  _ from Earth, and not  _ up  _ to Heaven.

He sits at his desk, puzzled, when he realizes that Emma never came. It’s as he’s wondering where she is that she appears, as if summoned by his thoughts. She listens as he recounts his morning before rolling her eyes behind her glasses (she unconsciously rolls her neck at the same time, which Kiliel does  _ not  _ find cute; if Emma knew what he was thinking, he’d be discorporated on the spot) and inviting him to lunch. They don’t talk about it any more, and at the end of their lunch Emma heads off to Camberwell to officiate a blessing for Killian on her way to Croydon. 

(Kiliel is  _ not _ amused by the result of this blessing; young John William Bean was supposed to feel divine inspiration to bring change to his life, but not by  _ shooting at the Queen.  _ Emma is, however, and keeps arguing that the gun was full of coffee, anyway, the worst that could have happened was that Her Majesty’s dress would have sported a suspicious brown stain)

The incident stays in his mind, however, and he realizes with a certain shock that he can’t trust Blue anymore, that she doesn’t seem to have either his  _ or _ Earth’s best interest at heart. The thought scares him, as an Angel is not supposed to question his superiors (is not supposed to question anything, really), and he knows that several of his former brothers and sisters have fallen for just this reason. He fears this will be his fate, until he realizes that it’s not God he’s questioning (he still has the utmost Faith in Her, doesn’t doubt Her Great Plan), but rather a particular Angel. The thought saddens him, as angels are not supposed to be suspicious of each other, but it is what it is. 

And that’s where Kiliel starts to plan. Because whatever Blue’s goal is, it involves him not being on Earth, and he has no intention of being a part of it if it’s not the Almighty’s Plan. So he needs some sort of… deterrent. But what can an angel do against an archangel? There’s only one answer, and it’s a terrible, unthinkable one. Which is why Kiliel chooses to unthink it for a decade, pretending everything is fine as he conducts blessings as usual, interspersed with the occasional temptation for Emma. 

But really, the thought keeps nagging him despite his best efforts; Hellfire is the only thing that can kill an angel. And he’s not talking about a simple discorporation, your mortal vessel dies, whoops, Up Above you go, please fill these forms to get a new one and don’t let us see you again. No, death by Hellfire would mean complete annihilation of the body  _ and  _ the soul; you’d be burnt away from existence, with no hope of resurrection whatsoever. It is an abomination, made even more abhorrent by the fact that it’s a weapon kept solely in the hands of their mortal enemies – just like the Heavenly Host has Holy Water. The stakes are balanced, each side having the means to destroy the other. 

(While God’s Plan is Ineffable, this part is pretty clear, the balance perfect. They’ll see which side tips the scales when Kingdom comes.)

And yet, it’s the only solution. And as far as he knows, there’s only one way to get some Hellfire, and that’s through a demon.

Good thing he knows one.

Except the meeting doesn’t go as planned. They meet at St. James’ Park, feed the ducks, then head to the bookshop (which he keeps mostly closed these days; he’s getting tired of fending off customers) like usual. He makes his request after a few drinks, but Emma flies off the handle, categorically refusing to even give him an ember. 

“I will not give you the meansss of destroying yourself. I need sssome time, Kiliel,” is the last thing she tells him, hissing her  _ s  _ in a rare show of true anger before leaving his shop, not looking back despite Killian calling after her.

He doesn’t hear from her for 64 years.

For the first time since the beginning of the world, the Angel and the Demon dance separately. The Demon has walked away from the paso doble, leaving the Angel alone on the stage.

And so, lonelier than he’s ever been, the Angel dons a mask that hides his face, and performs the steps that ensure he doesn’t stand out from the ensemble. He begins a Kabuki performance that will last until November 14th, 1941.

––- 

Kiliel (or Killian Jones, as he’s come to be known by mortals) should really have realized this operation was too good to be true. He’d been contacted the previous week by a Captain Teach, who’d told him some Nazi agents were looking to obtain his collection of books of prophecy, and that the SOE wanted to use this occasion to root out the cell. He had readily acquiesced, always eager to thwart evil coming from demons and humans alike. 

The Nazis has indeed contacted him, proposing a substantial sum of money to convince him to part with his precious volumes. He had accepted and called Teach back, giving him the time and place of the meeting. He thought it was quite fitting that they were to be brought to justice by an angel in a church, but he guessed that it made sense to meet in a place that was public but usually deserted, and which wouldn’t be crowded in case of an air raid. However, he didn’t like that Her house would be used for such nefarious purposes, but guessed that the ends justified the means in this case.

Except that it turns out Captain Teach is only a pseudonym, and that he’s really a mercenary who doesn’t care where the money is coming from, as long as it’s hard cash. Kiliel is fuming as he stares down the nozzle of the gun pointed right between his eyes; he can’t believe he got swindled by these half-witted  _ Nazis _ .

His execution is stopped by colorful swearing and the off-rhythm staccato of heels hitting the church’s stone floor. The men turn as one to see a woman hopping quickly towards them. Kiliel can’t believe his eyes; he hasn’t heard this voice in 64 years (nor seen these calves since Ancient Greece, if he remembers correctly).

“The notorious Emma Swan,” Teach breathes next to him, sounding astounded.

“Swan?” Kiliel asks in confusion, ignoring the humans behind him.

“Yeah, what of it? I had to think of something,” Emma grumbles, coming to a stop near them, sitting on a pew and taking her feet off the ground with a sigh of relief escaping her red lips. Kiliel tries to hide his smile, flabbergasted she’s here, in front of him, after all this time, and that she walked on consecrated ground to come to him. Turns out it’s not the only miraculous thing to happen today, though; she explains to Teach and the Nazis that they’d better run if they want to avoid getting killed by the bomb that’s heading their way. She mentions that only a miracle would allow someone to survive the explosion, looking meaningfully at Kiliel over her glasses, who understands her meaning and prepares to use his Grace at the right moment.

Teach is the only one who heeds Emma’s advice and scampers out, running out of a side door. The Nazis don’t move, thinking that Fraulein Swan is bluffing, even as they can detect the buzz of planes coming nearer. They only realize she’s definitely  _ not  _ when they hear the tell-tale whistle of a bomb heading towards the ground at breakneck speed. Kiliel walks closer to Emma before blinking and making sure their little corner remains untouched by the blast and the debris, allowing only a warm breeze to ruffle their hair. When the dust has settled, Kiliel turns his head towards the Demon. She looks regal, draped over the pew, her black outfit untouched by the dust as flames reflect on her sunglasses, making her appear absolutely diabolic. She’s never looked more beautiful to Kiliel.

And then he realizes he completely forgot about his books. They’d been in the Nazis’ hands before the bomb had fallen, and they must be completely crushed under the rubble, or even burning, he thinks with dismay, sighing noisily. They had been among his most prized possessions, some of them even signed by their authors (he especially loved the dedication by Nostradamus – such a nice man, if somewhat misguided). But then Emma gets up, heading towards the biggest pile of rubble and picking something up before tossing it to him. Caught by surprise, Kiliel fumbles to catch it before looking down and seeing that it’s his satchel, untouched by the destruction around them. 

“Little demonic miracle of my own,” Emma says as she passes him, gingerly walking towards the exit, the ground still consecrated even if the church doesn’t exist anymore.

Kiliel doesn’t follow immediately, floored by the thoughtfulness of his friend as his heart soars and his stomach swoops and –  _ oh _ . How could he have been so oblivious? Angels are beings of love: they are made of it, and they thrive in it. An argument could be made for his love for Emma blending into the love he feels for all creatures, high and low, but that’s not it, is it? He doesn’t merely love Emma, he’s  _ in _ love with her. He doesn’t just want to see her happy, he wants to  _ make  _ her happy. If he could give her back even a tenth of the bliss she elicits in him just by existing, then he’d be satisfied. 

He’s jarred out of his thoughts by Emma calling after him to hurry up. With a soft smile, he follows her to the street, where she heads towards a parked car, clicking her tongue at the gravel and dust covering it. Stepping on the sidewalk, Kiliel blinks once more, and the car is sparkling clean. Kiliel is surprised to see that it’s more yellow than black – a surprising color scheme for a demon but then, when has Emma been remotely conventional? It’s surprisingly  _ her _ , he thinks fondly. His smile is soon wiped away, however when he sees her get behind the wheel, the passenger door opening on its own in a wordless invitation to get in as he hears sirens in the distance. Surely she’s calmed down on her driving, right? What with the different vehicle and the risk of rubble on the streets she’s going to be more prudent, he’s sure. Kiliel gets in, clutching his satchel.

He was wrong. She’s even worse than before, the maneuverability of the vehicle allowing her to do more daring stunts, like taking turns on two wheels, or slaloming between craters at top speed. Kiliel is glad Soho is not far from the church, as he would surely have discorporated if he’d had to stay in the car for five more minutes, either from an accident or from his heart giving out on him (Emma scoffs when he tells her that, reminding him that he actually doesn’t need a heart, stop being so dramatic, it’s not cute at  _ all _ ). The only good thing about the ride is that since they’re in the middle of an air raid, there are no pedestrians on the street. 

Emma stops when she enters the bookshop, looking at the empty shelves with amazement before turning to Kiliel, silently waiting for an explanation. It’s simple, really; what with the Blitz raging over London, he wanted to make sure that both his ship and his books would be safe. He went with the most practical solution, which was to put the books in his ship, and his ship in Cathair na Mart. He doesn’t understand what’s so funny about it, but Emma is highly amused (and if her mocking allows him to hear her beautiful laugh, then it’s a small price to pay).

They spend the evening drinking, catching up, and not mentioning their last meeting at all. The Angel asks about Emma’s new name, and has the pleasure of seeing a slight embarrassed flush bloom on her cheeks as she mutters that she needed a new name and that was what came to her – it’s not her fault demons have no imagination. Kiliel charitably doesn’t say anything more, as they both know Emma can be quite creative when she wants to be, choosing instead to ask about her car. That launches her into how she got it and the modifications she had done to it. 

Kiliel keeps expecting to feel different about Emma, but apart from having identified his feelings, it’s just like any meeting they’ve had before. It’s comfortable, familiar, a breath of fresh air after more than half a century of her absence.

When Emma leaves, it’s with no promise that she’ll be back. And yet, Kiliel somehow knows he won’t have to wait 64 years to see her again.

––- 

The Demon comes back to the dance floor, and the pasodoble resumes, even more intense than before. But the dynamics have changed; they don’t push against each other as much, choosing instead to move together. The posturing is just that, now: a facade for the audience. 

Another change: they barely look away from each other.

Kiliel’s books never go back on the shelves of the bookshop, despite the ship coming back to its place in Rotherhithe after the war. A seed Emma had planted a century before finally blooms, and he realizes that he is much better on his ship alone with his books rather than trying to fend off rude people not understanding that they’re not for sale (“customers, angel, they’re called  _ customers _ ”).

Arranging his collection to his satisfaction takes some time (and a miracle or two, both angelic and demonic) until he’s satisfied. The whole cargo hold is transformed into a new library, with only his most prized books in his cabin. With this new organization, Kiliel finds himself with a lot of room below deck empty; he uses it to store bits and bobs, such as nautical maps and instruments, his old clothes (though his toga doesn’t survive the trip, and miracling it whole wouldn’t be the same), and various furniture and decorations (and if the pew on which Emma had lounged in 1941 finds its way to the galley… well, no one has to know). 

Once he’s satisfied with his organization, in 1952, he invites Emma aboard to show her. He’s a little miffed by her laughing fit, because he’s not a proper pirate now, whatever she says (though her laugh is still as delightful and precious as ever, even more so now that he knows how much he loves her. For a few minutes he thinks  _ mission accomplished _ , he’s made her happy).

Emma is so amused that for the next fifteen years, she only refers to him as  _ Captain  _ and asks him every time they see each other how his pirate booty is doing. Kiliel feels like he is the butt of the joke in some way, though he’s yet to find how. 

They also see each other more frequently, approximately once every couple of years. They don’t mention it, but Kiliel is glad; he missed Emma before, and in a world that has become so fast changing, it’s reassuring to have a constant, even if she insists on following human fashions, making each meeting a lesson in the zeitgeist of the time.

On a foggy Tuesday morning, Blue comes to visit Kiliel at his old bookshop. Though his collection has been relocated, he keeps the shop to maintain a base of operations in Central London, now filling it with much more recent books that he is willing to part with (though he keeps his hours as erratic as before; he doesn’t mind selling these books, but even  _ he _ has his limits when it comes to customer service). She wants to ask him what he knows about a heist that took place in Mayfair’s Christ Church. Apparently a door was broken down, but nothing was stolen – except, oddly enough, all the Holy Water vats were emptied, not a single drop remaining. Kiliel hadn’t heard about this, and plays it down as probably a local homeless man wanting a dry place to sleep for the night and who was thirsty. Blue almost seems disappointed by his explanation, asking him to look into it nonetheless; they can’t have Holy Water falling into the wrong hands, after all.

Kiliel diffidently agrees, even though he can feel his anger rising. He knows. A quick visit to the church confirms his suspicions; a slight scent of iron betrays that a Demon has recently come here and burnt her feet on the consecrated ground. Though why would she take such a risk, knowing that even a mere handful of liquid could do her serious harm, even kill her if she were splashed?

How dare she take such a risk, Kiliel thinks angrily, when she could just as easily have asked him to – oh. 

Oh, the  _ hypocrisy _ .

While Kiliel has adapted quite well to the human world, he remains at his core an angel, and while angels are known for their benevolence, they’re also known for their righteous fury when provoked.

And Kiliel? Oh, Kiliel feels  _ provoked  _ alright.

He heads to her new apartment (she wasn’t even subtle, just went to the closest church, that damned serpent) and barely restrains himself from literally knocking down the door, but only because he can feel human eyes on his back and he doesn’t want to cause a scene. So he pretends to have a key and miracles the door open, striding into the living room. The Angel can feel that Emma is absent; there’s no one in the flat, so he sits down, and waits. He waits until the sun has gone down, and until it goes up again, his anger feeding on itself to remain a burning fire in his chest.

When Emma finally shows up, she enters her living room cautiously, already knowing he’s there. Kiliel doesn’t even let her open her mouth to talk, laying into her immediately. Because beyond the anger, he is  _ hurt _ , hurt that she wouldn’t trust him, hurt that she’d do the exact same thing she had refused him the previous century, and hurt that she would risk herself in such a way. And beyond the anger, beyond the pain, he is afraid, because what could a demon want with Holy Water?

“That’s none of your business!” Emma exclaims, her eyes flashing behind her sunglasses.

“None of my business? Are you kidding me? It is my business when a demon does what no other has ever done and sneaks into a church to steal  _ Holy Water _ ! It is my business when that stupid,  _ stupid  _ act attracts the attention of the archangels, and they ask me to investigate! And whether you want to admit it or not, it is my business when my  _ friend _ takes ridiculous risks to obtain something that could obliterate her from existence, and refuses to tell me why!”

“We’re not  _ friendsss _ ,” Emma hisses, as if the word is the ugliest swear she’s ever uttered, “I don’t even  _ like _ you.”

Of all that he said,  _ that _ is the thing she chooses to respond to? Infuriating woman, he doesn’t understand how her animal traits are not those of a bull; she’s the thickest-headed being he has ever had the displeasure to meet.

“Yes you  _ do _ ,” he snaps back, at the end of his rope. He doesn’t know when he stepped closer to her, but he is now towering over her smaller form, forcing her to raise her head to look him in the eyes (and despite the glasses as a barrier between them, he’s not fooled by her) but for once he will  _ not  _ back down. This is too important. “What’s going on, Emma?”

He can see her wavering, senses it in the way her breathing hitches, how her body shifts as if she wants to slither away, forgetting she’s in human form for a moment. But she rallies (because she wouldn’t be his Demon if she didn’t) and answers his question with another one. “Why did you want Hellfire for anyway? Quite hypocritical of you to rake me over the coals, so to speak, for something you tried yourself barely a century ago.”

Kiliel doesn’t let her barb get to him and instead decides on honesty, knowing that this will catch her off guard. “Because I need… something to defend myself with, just in case,” he says simply.

“Defend yourself? From angels? What the fuck is going on, Kiliel?” Emma almost never uses his name, preferring one of the numerous nicknames she has for him, so he knows she’s rattled.

And so he tells her everything: that while his faith in God has never wavered (quite the contrary; seeing Her hand in the wonders of the world, both big and small, has only strengthened it), he has started to have doubts about Blue, finding her actions and words quite peculiar. He tells her about his fear of Falling for doubting his superior, and that the fact Blue herself hasn’t Fallen means that she is still faithful to God, and the incident that triggered his request for Hellfire. He’s surprised, however, when she snorts as he recounts Blue’s change of mind.

“Yeah, I know, I was there,” Emma says, smirking. “I heard her when she was at the bookshop with you, so I took action.”

What kind of action exactly, she will not say. Kiliel is mystified: not only had she known about Heaven’s plans, but she’d actually thwarted them with no one being the wiser, the clever,  _ clever  _ woman. Doesn’t like him,  _ right _ .

Emma then opens up to him; demons don’t trust each other by nature, but Hell has been even more tense recently. Something big is brewing, although she doesn’t know what yet. More demons have been making noise about coming to Earth, too, even high-ranking ones, such as two of the Duchesses of Hell, Maleficent and Cruella. Nothing has stirred Hell like this,  _ ever _ ; even the Great Flood hadn’t excited demons in this way.

_ Something wicked this way comes _ , Kiliel can’t help but think. Good old William – he’d heard Kiliel tease Emma back at the Globe, and he’d run with the line. He doesn’t know what’s better: being the inspiration behind  _ Macbeth _ ’s most famous scene, or Emma’s offended face when she had seen the three witches for the first time. 

But they have no idea what it is, so all they can do is prepare as well as they can and agree to keep each other in the loop from now on. Kiliel manages to get a promise from Emma that she’ll get some Hellfire for him, which he hopes she’ll honor. 

Neither of them talks about the fact they are actually plotting against their own side, choosing their mortal enemy (though just one in particular) over their own brethren. But they have been here on Earth so long that it has started to feel more like home than Above or Below ever have; they have spent so much time together that they feel more kinship to each other than to their own kind.

The next day, Kiliel finds a lantern glowing with an ever-burning fire on his cabin’s desk. It ends up in his safe, warded against any accidents, whether external or internal. Emma is not the only one who’s paranoid.

––- 

Months pass, then years, then decades. The Angel and the Demon see each other more frequently, though not regularly, in order not to arouse suspicion. Short, short, long, go the intervals. Quick, quick, slow, goes their rhythm. They fly across and around and over the world in an otherworldly foxtrot as Earth evolves around them, faster and faster, busier and busier. But the world can’t go on accelerating; it’ll need to either stop turning or rotate right out of its orbit, both outcomes meaning its downfall.

––- 

On a perfectly fine Tuesday morning, Blue visits Kiliel in his used bookshop, startling him from his inventory (he had to do something with the space, after all, and filling it with books that have been loved by previous owners creates a warm glow that warms him from inside; he is an Angel, after all, and angels thrive on love). From the start, the Angel knows that something is different. Blue is positively glowing, her eyes sparkling and the corners of her lips seemingly permanently turned into a slight secretive smile.

The secret, for once, is quickly spilled; the Archangel seems delighted to announce that the Antichrist has been delivered to Earth, and by none other than the Demon Emma, as if it’s Kiliel’s personal fault. She doesn’t elaborate on this theme, however, preferring to tell him that he had best put his affairs in order, as eleven years will pass quite quickly. Her parting words - that he should also start training for the War, that he seems to have gotten quite out of practice, if his reflexes are to be believed – hit their mark, despite Kiliel’s best efforts not to let them. He used to be one of the Host’s best soldiers, after all, his exploits earning him a post at one of Eden’s gates.

But six thousand years on Earth have changed him; he doesn’t want to fight anymore, doesn’t see the point in it (and he doesn’t want to face even the slimmest possibility of finding himself opposite Emma on the battlefield). And yet, the arrival of the Antichrist shows that the Ineffable plan is going along, that it is God’s will.

So be it.

On a perfectly fine Tuesday afternoon, Kiliel stands at the prow of the  _ Ethereal Swan _ , looking unseeingly over the water, when his phone rings. Without pulling his gaze away from whatever it is he is seeing, he answers the phone, already knowing who’s on the other end.

“Emma. I suppose you’re calling about…”

“Armageddon, yes.”

Well.

––- 

The music stops, and so do the dancers, their hair and their clothes snapping around them as they lock gazes, lost in their own world. A world that’s coming to an end.

_ Welcome to the End of Times. _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Researching all the historical and literary references was a lot of fun, and let's not even talk about the puns and dumb jokes.
> 
> I also hereby claim the "slowest burn" award for the CS fandom. 6,000 years and some change, people, try me! 
> 
> I would love to talk about this fic either in the comments or on my [ Tumblr](http=//snidgetsafan.tumblr.com), so come find me!


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